For The Reader's Ear
J
Jose Asuncion Silva
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No, that was not passion,
It was the vague tenderness
Inspired by a sickly child,
Lang syne, and moon pale nights.
The spirit sings only
When the heart is moved,
When, shaken by love’s power, it trembles,
Broods, draws back, says not a word.
True passion might in fact
Have been…these pages,
That were they written in happier times
Would have appeared as tears, not verses.
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